


Spin

by zinke



Series: What We Didn't See [5]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-20
Updated: 2007-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9309290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: "I'm not your sidekick anymore, Josh."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ on February 20, 2007.
> 
> Angst, ahoy! Sorry folks, but there is just no way things were going to be smooth sailing for these two if I was going to keep things in canon. And really, when has anything ever been easy for these two? At this point in the series, it’s really going to work out better if you’ve read the previous installments first. 
> 
> This one’s a beta-free zone, so any mistakes are my own. Thanks again for all of the wonderful feedback, and here we go!

* * * *

 

I’m so tired but I can’t sleep  
Standin’ on the edge of something much too deep  
It’s funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word  
We are screaming inside, but we can’t be heard.  
-“I Will Remember You”, Sarah McLachlan

* * * *

“Hey!” Josh plugged a finger in his free ear to block out the surrounding chaos. “Did you see it?”

He could practically hear her smiling through the phone. “You have to ask? All I want to know is how you guys pulled it off.”

Cocking his head to the side, he considered her request for a long moment. “I honestly have no idea.”

“You and Lou are doing spin?”

“Just wrapping up.”

“And you're playing nice with the press?”

She was bantering with him, and he couldn’t stop the dimpled grin that spread across his face as he willingly offered the cocky retort she was no doubt anticipating. “I don't have to. Tonight, the press answers to me.”

“Hardly,” she scolded laughingly, bringing the familiar, yet still rusty ritual to a close. The sound of it only served to widen his smile further, and he breathed a deep sigh of thanks to whoever might be listening for giving him a night this good. 

“So, you guys on your way?”

“We should be wheels up within the hour.”

“Any more fallout from our inadvertent disclosure of ‘Victoria's Secret’?”

“The Congressman's stopped asking that half the campaign press corps's passes be revoked, so I think we're making progress. I'm more concerned about how Mrs. Santos is dealing with her first solo appearance in the national media spotlight.”

Sliding his free hand into his pants pocket, he began to leisurely pace the hallway. “Not the best, I know. But I don't think it's something that's going to materially hurt our numbers. If anything, it might help us with the youth vote. I'm thinking of moving up 'Rock the Vote' and adding Mrs. Santos to the event so we can take control and use this to our advantage.”

“You may want to talk with Mrs. Santos about that first.”

“She's that upset about this thing?”

“I don't know if I'd call it upset exactly...more like ambivalent.”

Something in her tone caused him to stop mid-stride. “Ambivalent?” he probed cautiously, a pit of dread pooling low in his stomach.

“She may have told me this afternoon that she wasn't sure she wanted him to win.”

“Excuse me?!?” He could feel his eyebrows reaching vainly for his hairline as his anxiety finally spilled over. “Donna, we can't have her saying things like that—”

“I know that, Josh,” she cut in impatiently. “And so does she.”

As quickly as it had come, he felt the ebullient atmosphere between them vanish. “You're not about to tell me to chill again, are you?” he warned, oddly unsure whether he was trying to joke with her or to provoke her.

“Would it get you to shut up?” she bit back with a prickly edge to her voice that was all but impossible for him to overlook. 

Laboring against the seductive call of his frayed nerves, he tried to head off the confrontation he could feel building like a thunderhead on the horizon. “No.” 

“Then why waste my breath?”

“Funny,” he replied, his clipped tone conveying that he found it anything but. This banter wasn’t like before; it was more sinister, and he sensed an anger behind it that made this exchange frighteningly volatile. Taking a slow, calming breath, he consciously renewed his efforts to steer the conversation back onto safer ground. “It sounds like she feels comfortable with you.”

Much to his relief, she seemed to follow his lead. “I wouldn't go that far; I think I just happened to be an available ear.”

“Still, maybe you should be the one to float her ‘Rock the Vote’.” 

“Trying to get me to do your dirty work for you?”

“It's always worked well for me in the past.” He cringed the moment the thoughtless words crossed his lips, recognizing too late the Pandora's Box he'd inadvertently thrown open. Raking his fingers through his already unruly hair, he made a half-hearted attempt at an apology. “Donna...”

Her response, delivered in a calculated monotone, quickly verified his worst fears. “I'm not your sidekick anymore, Josh.”

His eyes strayed down the hallway towards the post-debate reception, where he could see Annabeth and Ronna laughing together, each holding a drink and wearing matching expressions of satisfied relief. He couldn’t believe how desperately he wished he was standing there with them, proudly reviewing the many high points of Leo’s unexpected performance, bourbon in his hand. No; a double bourbon. This situation without question called for at least a double. “Really, were you ever?” he finally quipped weakly as he wrenched his envious gaze away from the revelry.

“When are you going to start taking this seriously?” She was pissed; hell, as far as he could tell, she hadn’t really stopped being pissed at him since walking out on him almost a year ago. But he had the distinct impression there was something particularly treacherous about her question that his overtaxed brain just couldn’t quite puzzle out. 

Unfortunately for him, she mistook his confused silence as all the response she needed to confirm her suspicions. “It’s taken a lot to get myself here Josh, and I’m not going to let you pull me back simply because it’s more convenient for you.”

“What?”

“These people know me as someone other than your former assistant,” she explained frostily. “I’d like to keep it that way.”

“You make it sound as if I’m the professional equivalent of the Ebola virus!” he screeched in abject disbelief. “You worked with me for over seven years; was I really that much of a bastard?”

“Of course not,” she whispered painfully after a long and pregnant pause. “If any of this had been wholly about you, do you really think I would have come to you after the convention asking for a job as your deputy?”

“A job you knew I couldn’t offer you,” he challenged sharply.

Her exasperated sigh was audible despite the increasing background noise as she stepped out of the elevator into the hotel lobby. “Wouldn’t offer.”

“I think I made my reasons at the time perfectly clear—”

“Josh,” she cut in quietly, “when are you going to stop punishing me for leaving?”

The question seemed to bleed all the remaining fight from him. Slumping against the nearby wall for support, he dropped his chin to his chest in silent defeat. Eventually he asked with equal softness, “When are you going to forgive me for letting you?” He couldn’t but, unbelievably she still seemed able to breathe, each measured hiss of her breath against the receiver helping to raise his anxiety that much higher as he waited for a response. 

Hundreds of miles and a time zone away, Donna stood dumbfounded, surrounded by oblivious staff going about the business of moving on to the next campaign stop: checking out, collecting bags, reviewing travel itineraries, confirming schedules. Blinking back tears, she pulled her lips into a stiff line and made her decision. “They just announced that we’re about to take off. I’ll have to call you back.” Flipping the phone shut before he’d have the chance to respond, she dropped the device unceremoniously into her tote, swiped angrily at her eyes, then headed dutifully for the waiting motorcade.

Josh was left standing under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway, staring desperately at the phone as if the act itself could bring her back on the line. She’d lied; worse yet, she knew that he’d realize she had. He hadn’t thought it was possible, but this final, blatant rejection seemed to hurt him more than any of the words she’d just hurled at him. 

“Josh, are you coming?” Annabeth’s lilting voice broke through the fog, and he raised his eyes to find her watching him expectantly from the reception room doorway, a glass of effervescent champagne in hand. 

Slipping his phone into the clip at his waist, he levered himself stiffly from the wall, and concluded that it was well past time to get that double scotch he’d been wanting. “Yeah. I’m finished here.”

 

*fin.*


End file.
